buttercup

I met Wes last Saturday at Eastwood for dinner and movie, The Stepford Wives (a pretty good laughing flick, I might add). We haven't seen each other since Fete and the first thing he uttered was, "Cecil, you're so... so... so preppy!"

I was then wearing a pink shirt and capri pants, accessorized by white watch, bag and slippers. Oh yeah, I was wearing a headband then. A pink headband. With pink flowers.

* * *
After receiving disturbing news last night, I gussied myself up for work today. Knowing that I don't have an important meeting today, I opted pink.

Normally, I went to work wearing traditional black, brown, blue and white. Occasionally, partnered with a short skirt (long slit) or my kick-ass boots. But it was still pretty traditional.

I've never been a pink person.

Today, I felt like Elle (Legally Blonde) walking around Harvard on her first day of school. I went to work with my shocking pink 3/4 blouse, pink watch, and, yes, my pink headband. I thought it was funny how my officemates reacted.

Jomari, an officemate, was walking pass my area. Then stopped. Walked back. Finally started singing, "Why do you build me up, buttercup..."

I think it's nice to shock people in the office once in awhile.

* * *
This is pretty much what I look like today. Taken in the restroom so that nobody would see me! Hehehe :)

how to be dead

I love music. I wish God gave me the voice to sing or the talent to play instruments. I must have been sleeping when He showered the world with that. At least, I woke up by the time music appreciation was being distributed.

Periods of my life are marked with songs. I marvel at the lyrics and the fact that someone else was able to write what I had been longing to say or hear. Songs have the ability to encompass emotions into words and melodies -- this is beyond me. I know I cannot do it no matter how much I try and my only recourse is to "own" the songs in my everyday experiences, while giving credit to the people who made it.

A long time ago, I posted the albums I wanted to purchase and I was able to acquire 4 out of the 10, namely, Maroon5, Harry Connick Jr., Michael Buble, and Snow Patrol. Each of them met my expectations and I loved every single track.

One, though, had exceeded my expectation and stuck to me. (Probably cause the first time I heard it, I was with a crushie. :P) I listen to it as often as I could, even playing it on repeat when I go to bed, travel, or gym. The melody is great but the way the lyrics was written was absolutely wonderful.

In everything and in all my experiences, I pick up a lesson here and there. This song taught me:

1. It is imperative that your partner loves you more than you love him because a man who loves you more is more patient and more understanding than usual. They make effort to make things right and better for you and will not let you go without a fight.
2. Men who call you terms of endearment like "baby", "sweetie", and "darling" is a manifestation that they are besotted to you, especially, when you hear them say it in public. Though, it may became a force of habit over time, the way they say it is like an affirmation that you are loved. Cherish it.
3. In arguments, women talk more than men. Nagging would be the perfect term. If not that, then they offer stone cold silence. Most often than not, women assume too much because they think too much to a point that they assume that they know what their men are going to say. It pays to be quiet. You may just hear something that you didn't think your man could ever say.
4. When couples fight, someone always take the blame. Men, not really liking the confrontation, tend to be quiet and shoulder the blame just to stop the argument from getting worse. Women, on the other hand, are infuriated more because the men are not talking causing them to think that their men are more to blame. Sometimes, I think, women just want to pick fights.
5. Never assume that men know why the fight started in the first place. Most of the time, they are clueless on why you sparked and got pissed. They didn't know they stepped over a drawn line because they never knew there was one in the first place. But they stick it out cause they love you.

How to be Dead
Snow Patrol

Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth
No you don't know what happened and you never will
If you don't listen to me while I talk to the wall
This blanket is freezing, it's been out in the hall
Where you've had me for hours til i'm sure what I want
But darlin' I want the same thing as I wanted before
So sweetie tell me what's up, I won't stop. No way.

Please keep your hands down and stop raising your voice
It's hardly what i'd be doing if you gave me a choice
It's a simple suggestion, can you give me some time?
So just say yes or no, why can't you shoulder the blame?
Cos' both my shoulders are heavy from the weight of us both
You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth
You've not heard a single word I have said. Oh my God.

Please take it easy, it can't all be my fault
I haven't made half the mistakes that you've listed so far
Baby let me explain something, it's all down to drugs
At least I remember taking them and not a lot else
It seems i've stepped over lines you've drawn again and again
But if the ecstacy's in the wit is definately out
Doctor Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride

excuses excuses

A breakup always ends with a reason or an excuse. The difference being:

Reason : The basis or motive for an action, decision, or conviction.

Excuse : To explain (a fault or an offense) in the hope of being forgiven or understood.

More often than not, an excuse is given by the dumper rather than the reason because an excuse is a softer blow compared to a cold statement of a fact. To illustrate:

"I love you less because you got fat."

"It's not you. It's me."

"I'm sorry I was unfaithful. You deserve better."

"I love you but I'm just not ready for commitment now."

"I need space."

"It was a threesome. I couldn't resist."

"I love you but I have a wife."

Ok, the last one is might be considered as a grounds for a breakup. However, it entails an excuse to his wife (if ever he was found), "I love you but you were abroad at that time. I got lonely."

Those actually sound a bit nicer rather than saying (or hearing from the dumpee's perspective):

"I don't love you anymore. I want out."

"It was nice while it lasted, but I don't see spending the rest of my life with you."

"I'm sorry but we have irreconcillable differences."

"I have found someone else."

On some cases, the dumpers do something really nasty that way the dumpee would become the dumper. Thus, the supposed-dumpee would make the move of breaking the relationship. In this reversal of modes, it eases any guilt that the supposed-dumper would feel.

The dumper feels bad enough (maybe even guilty) that they would break the dumpee's heart that they would want to soften the blow. However, there is a danger to this open-ended closure. In an "It's not your fault but mine" scenarios, dumpees feel that it is their fault. Thus, dumpees always have a tendency to think that there's a way to resolve any issue raised by the dumper. That they could go on a diet, be better in bed, have a facelift, loosen up on the jealousy, forgive an unspeakable act, and whatnot.

It promotes a tendency of hope on the dumpee's side (while none on the dumper's) that they could get back together after some time, rather than putting a period at the end of the chapter. Thus, dumpees have a tendency to think and re-think what went wrong in their perfect relationship. Their healing takes twice as long and any action by the dumpers would be an encouragement because in their hearts (and heads), they can still work it out. This is, of course, in the assumption that the dumpees still love their dumpers.

To state a fact, I have never been a dumper. I have had my share of rejecting suitors but I never rejected a boyfriend before. (At least, not that I know of!) But I received my share of excuses and reasons.

Soft blows and hard truths.

I realized it took me a longer time to recover and close the chapter for the excuses. While the truth, though it's more painful to receive (i.e. already married), sets me free and heals me faster. Yes, more tears but less anguish, less time spent mourning and none of those "what-ifs".

I'd take hard truths anytime.

hard habit to break

My mom, though she has never seen me smoke, is asking me to quit. She thinks it's as easy as quitting going to Sidebar. (Yes, I have kept my end of the bargain and I haven't seen even the shadow of the place in the past three weeks.)

Easy is when you really want to do what is being asked of you. What is not easy is when you don't really feel like doing so. Especially, if you like what you are currently doing and don't plan to quit just because your mom or some other important person says so.

I admit. I have an oral fixation.

I smoke. I eat. I kiss.

I like the whole idea of doing something with my mouth in general.

Being on a diet right now and no one to kiss, I turn to smoking. I was able to cut down on my smoking before, but it just went back when I had to diet. Now that I'm sick, I can't smoke and so I eat.

It's a vicious cycle. I know it has to stop sooner or later. As those who quit ahead of me said, "You must have a very good reason to quit so that you want regress."

I hope to get myself orally occupied in some other way that won't make me fat. A non-smoking boyfriend present perhaps?

* * *
In choosing what you want versus what you need to do, the heart and the head are always at ends. At least it has always been that way for me in dealing with matters of the heart. My heart yearns for one thing, while my head says another thing.

Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda... you know very well that the heart feels for itself and there's no rational thought in it that would say who you love [more].

-- cecil
24 Aug. 2004

Somehow the whole concept of "it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all" is way too passe. After awhile, it gets tiring, especially when you know it's pointless.

Is pain always part of happiness?

How does one walk out on someone she loves?

How does one prevent herself from getting hurt?

Can one love within a prescribed limit?

What does one do when her friends are against the guy she loves?

How does one go on when she knows there's nothing there for her?

parents' instincts

Telebabad

Telebabad [noun]

1. Filipino/Tagalog slang for being on the telephone too much.
2. Frequently using the landline to a point of burning the lines.

Over dinner, my mom asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Taken aback, I frowned and replied, "No." Pause. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you seem to be on the phone a lot lately."

My parents know my addiction to the landline transferred to my celfone when I acquired a post-paid line from Globe back in 2000. Since then, the only times they see me frequent the phone in the living room are the instances when I'm involved with someone. Even then, most of my phone conversations are on the celfone. I hate it when my folks eavesdrop on my conversations

Being sick and bored to my skull, I had to think of diversions outside my room. I think I managed to watch all of the shows on cable and seen its replay the morning after. Out of the ten books I bought a couple of weeks ago, I managed to read 7 of them. Right now, my eyes are strained from too much reading.

I did the inevitable. I used the landline. When I'm not on the phone, I'm on the internet. Either which way, I'm using the phone.

I think my mom is secretly hoping that I go back to work soon. She wants her phone back.

* * *
Doorbell

A couple of nights ago, the doorbell rang incessantly. I was too sick to answer it and my parents were sleeping already. It turned out to be JP, a neighbor who needed something from me. I forgot that he was supposed to drop by that night as arranged the night before.

The next day, he texted, "You forgot our date."

"I'm sorry I forgot. But I was and still am sick. Pass by tonight. I promise I'll wait up for you."

My folks confronted me a little later, saying, "JP was here last night and was asking for you. What's going on?"

I explained to them that JP recently acquired a phone similar to mine and he was asking for help as to how to setup it up, use it, and if he could get some files from me.

I thought that was that. Until the morning after JP's visit, my mom inquired, "So how did it go?"

"I helped him out and we talked about his girl."

I think that stopped my mom from her matchmaking hints.

* * *
Grandkids

When you're [almost] 26, single, the only girl, and still living with your parents, you get pressured. Period.

My dad asks how come I had three boyfriends already and I'm still not settled. He's threatening that the next guy who enters our door will have to marry me.

My mom's pushing me to go to the States and get myself a blue-eyed, blond guy, so that she'll have blue-eyed, blond grandchild.

They're insistent to have grandchildren with me because they're sure that it's their own. Until now, I think they doubt that my brothers are the fathers of their own children because of the fact that they never carried them in their tummies. They are sure, though, that these kids are my sister-in-laws. Not that they're really hinting on infidelity. I guess they would just prefer them to come out of my brothers! Hahaha :)

When I told them I want to have a baby by the age of 30 even if I'm not married, my mom was indignant. She doesn't want a grandchild born out of wedlock. I told her that I would have sperm donors who would be genetically tested to see if we could produce good genes and explained to them the idea of artifically insemination. (Not that I really have that in mind. I believe the natural way is the best way to bring children to the world, and I wouldn't mind practicing a lot to get it done.)

I rattled on to explain the scientific process. They told me to zip it. I think they just want me to get married so that I'll be out of their hands.

a little tlc

Whether I like it or not, I'm still sick. What's worse is that I hate being sick. The first day, it was just dandy to take a day off work. I got to sleep late and watched tv. By the second day, with the storm brewing, it was still fine cause I got to curl up with a book in bed. By the time I finished the book, I was going out of my mind with lack of things to do.

This morning, my third day, the tummy was a bit better but I developed really bad cough and colds. I think it must have been because I left my window ajar during the heavy rain or something. My throat hurts, my nose hurts, my eyes hurt, my skin hurts, even my hair strands hurt.

I knew I badly needed TLC (tender loving care). With my family not being the showy type and with no boyfriend present, I knew I had to pay to get a little TLC. Yes, my friends, pay.

I called up the place and set an appointment for a threesome. Bundled in my folks car, the parents dropped me off 10minutes away from our house. I climbed up the stairs slowly, taking my time, catching my breath until I arrived at the reception area, where I was greeted with familiarity. (Yes, familiarity, as I have been a loyal customer since December 2001 and yes, I do have a 10% discount card.)

I was led to a small room where I was asked to strip. Yes, sweetie, even the bare essentials. I was asked to lie down while my good woman, Lilia, prepared to administer her kind of TLC. I have to say, I'm a masochist when it comes to this. Despite my flesh hurting, I waited for the hot sticky substance to be rubbed on my legs. I feel her rasping my legs with a spatula until the hot sticky substance cools. She placed a thin cloth on top of legs and smoothed its edges. After which, she obnoxiously peeled it off.

"Ouch!"

Gawd, I hate waxing but it's something I have to endure once a month. (I have everything done, the legs and the other unmentionables, hence the reason for stripping.) Its like succumbing to Lilia's mercy everytime because I think Lilia punishes me a little for each time I opt for the razor than her wax.

In the midst of the screaming and the pain, she puts my mind at ease by asking me about my lovelife. In turn, I get to hear news of her own and chismis of her more popular clients, like who asked for what shape in the bikini area.

Once the treatment in the room was done, I headed out to the salon area to have a bit of a massage and pedicure. Warry gave my hair a hot oil treatment, which later on my mom asked if I had my hair rebonded. I got a very painful an upper body massage that felt like pins on soothed my tired muscles (probably from lying too much on bed) and got my toes cleaned.

During that time, I was served coffee, water, and had my lunch delivered at the salon. I was so pampered and every whim of mine was catered to. They even gave me a special parafin treatment to "remove the coldness (pasma) of my hands". I was basking under their attention and after two and a half hours, I was glowing.

* * *
I'm not really into Sadism-Masochism (S&M) kind of setup nor the Dominatrix-Submissive (DS) relationship. But I don't mind subjecting myself to the once a month pain.

I did learn that the submissive is always the one in control.

At least I picked that up from watching CSI when Grissom said "No, in here, the submissive has the power. All he has to do is say the safety word and everything stops." and "All that time at Lady Heather's and you never learned that the submissive is the one in control?"

sicko

I'm sick. Really sick.

The last time I felt this sick was January this year, when I got rushed to The Medical City (their old building) because I had stomach pains. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I had a guess why. I was too dehydrated from the party I attended days before.

I didn't go to work for a week then.

Yesterday, I felt the same pangs again. Only this time it felt so much worse. Like someone's squeezing my guts. The pain came, stayed for a minute or so, and then gone. The spasms were within minutes of each other. I asked the office messenger to buy me medicine but it took a long while for them to arrive. I wanted to go myself because the pain was becoming unbearable.

I didn't bother going to the hospital cause I don't think they'd figure out what's wrong with me. Instead, I asked my folks to pick me up from work.

My mom said it was because I was dieting too much. That the coffee I had in the morning triggered the hyperacidity of my tummy. What's worse is I may have a case of intestinal flu since I've been going to and fro the bathroom and was feverish.

Thus, I'm here at home. Sick. If the pain won't go away by this afternoon, I'm going to the doctor.

* * *

I did lose 9lbs in the past two weeks... This was taken last Saturday at Eastwood.


It's such a waste that I have to stop going to the gym for the meantime.

win or lose, it's the school we choose

Geo and I had been planning to watch the Ateneo-La Salle UAAP game a week before the actual game. The only time you could really get me to Araneta, Cubao is when there's a concert I would really want to watch or if it's THE game (ADMU-DLSU).

Geo didn't get us tickets as of Thursday last week cause he didn't want to watch at the Upper A or B level. He wanted the lower boxes tickets cause he thinks it's not worth watching any further than that.

Me, I just wanted to go. Watching it on the telly is not as fun as being there, even if I'm as far as the general admissions portion. Luckily, my uncle got me an extra ticket so that I could watch with him and my cousins, Telle and Xten.


I don't know why. Maybe it's the school rivalry thing that got me carried along the hype. Or maybe it's just the most exciting basketball game I get to watch live. But I definitely know, it's one of those times that I can really see the school spirit among Ateneans. The atmosphere is engaging and there is a certain oneness among the blue shirts (as there is on the green shirts.)



Even if we lost.

Yesterday's game was really bad. There were too many mistakes and turnovers to mention. It just sucked. By half-time, the score was 15-44. It went to a point that DLSU had a 33-pt lead over us. By the end of third quarter, we gained momentum and cut the lead to 14pts. It even went down to 8pts, but ADMU just lost it in the last 3minutes of the game. When the finals scores were shown, my cousin, Xten, commented, "At least, it's just an 11-pt lead, compared to losing to them by 33pts."

As we left Araneta, we were subdued. It was like somebody died and it was quiet in the car. Over dinner at Outback, Libis, we started lamenting on the loss. Xten said this was as bad as a breakup. Like you just want to cry because there's nothing that can be done about it. On my end, it was worse than a breakup. In a breakup, there's always a chance to make up, of talking and making compromises. The scores in the game is finite and final as death.

That, of course, is an exaggeration. Unlike death, the remorse feeling lasts only a couple of days. After all, the hype is going to be resurrected the next game ADMU-DLSU meet each other on the basketball court.

* * *
Speaking of breakups, I saw my first breakup, T, in Araneta. He was also watching the game with his officemates. T was the only La Salle ex-boyfriend I had. Call it weird, but the idea of crossing over to their side of the court had never appealed to me. I guess, on his side, the thought of him crossing over to ours wasn't, as well. This is probably why we never watched a game when we used to be together.

SMS before the game:

ME: I'll call you when you lose the game, ha? :)
T: Don't bother. I'll throw away my phone away by then.
ME: Hahaha :)

SMS after the game:

ME: Congrats. At least you don't have to throw your phone.
T: =)

Hmmm, has he changed? I was half-expecting him to gloat because that's the way I've known him. Maybe, despite being green, he's seen the light.

I wish. :)

This morning he told me that he didn't need to gloat, because he knew it was enough a subtle blow on my Atenean pride that they won and we didn't.

I'm glad some things never change.

the reason behind the smile

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

Love Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda

What do you call two people from opposite sexes, attracted to each other, gone past flirting, more than friends, but never as flings, with no possibility of a happy ending?

My friend, Cookie, calls it M.U., which stands for Malabong Usapan (roughly translated in English as Vague Understanding/Agreement).

I have written before in my post, Doomed From The Start, that I only want to get involve in a relationship that would go somewhere. It was in another post, On Bouncing Back, that I defined the four types of guys I mentally categorize the men I meet in. Stressing on the fact that I'm not ready to meet the forever kind of guy.

A couple of weeks back, I met K. I thought he'd be perfect in the flirt category, maybe even fling is there's a certain mutual attraction. As I gotten to know him, he progressed to being a friend. I was no longer interested in fooling around with him, as friends were at the top of ranking and that means "no-messing-around."

We were communicating as often as we could, filling each other's inbox with numerous texts during the day. It all starts with a good morning, updating each other what we're doing, lunch, some more chit-chats, gym (on my part), until we both go to sleep.

He's sweet and I like receiving out of the blue messages. But I knew better to read between the lines. There was a point when I felt the emotional current was changing but I pretend not to notice. It was better not to assume anything.

That is until he told me so himself. From the "I like you like you." to the "I love you."

As you can imagine, my initial reaction were:

• Gawd, scared.
• This is too real, too fast, too soon.
• I'm not ready.
• I'm terrified.
• What if I get hurt again?

Again the question:

"What do you call two people from opposite sexes, attracted to each other, gone past flirting, more than friends, but never as flings, with no possibility of a happy ending?"

I checked an online dictionary for a possible definition of my situation and came up with:

Main Entry: qua·si
Pronunciation: 'kwA-"zI, -"sI; 'kwä-zE, -sE
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin, as if, as it were, from quam as + si if
: having such a resemblance to another thing as to fall within its general category [a quasi corporation]

Quam as + si if. As if.

To some degree. In some manner. Having a likeness to something. Having some resemblance to.

Ergo, I am in a quasi relationship..

A somewhat relationship, as though in a relationship, and resembling a relationship.

Weird. Even for me.

What the heck, I'm happy.

Hakuna Matata.

Carpei Diem.

terms of endearment

I remember this one time when I was talking to the second ex-boyfriend, M, on the phone, when my dad overheard me calling him "baby".

My dad said in his loud voice, "Parang narinig ko na yun! Di ba recycle na yan? (It seems I heard that before! Isn't that recycled already?)"

M heard my dad and asked why he said those words. I was soooooo embarrassed. My cheeks turned furiously red and warm as I admitted that I called my first ex-boyfriend, T, "baby", too.

He laughed after I explained. It was good that he was a sport about it. But I learned my lesson then. I vowed that I wouldn't call the third boyfriend (when the time comes) "baby" anymore.

Now, the whole memory is darn funny.

It turns out, I never called the third ex-boyfriend anything except his name. Sometimes I'd call him "sweetie", but he never really was the sweetie. After all, I called most of my cousins and girlfriends "sweetie". But he did text me once as "mahal (love)".

I had a semi-relationship with someone whom I referred to as "honey" but now, it's just Geo, my closest guy friend, and a handful of girlfriends.

"Dears" are harder for me to pronounce. It means you're a really, extremely, close friend. So far, there are only two people I really call "dear", Neva and Cookie.

Terms of endearment, I think, expresses how special a person is to another. They don't necessarily equate to the significant other. My sweeties, honeys, and dears are very close to my heart. I may use these endearments frequently, but it doesn't lose its value nor does its meaning deteriorate.

Hope you all know that when I call you that, you're special to me. :)

morning chat @ starbucks

I love spending time at Starbucks. For me, it's the ideal place to chat and catch up with friends, and to think about and answer existential questions.

Traffic wasn't as bad today as it had been for the past couple days weeks. Every time we arrive in Ortigas early, my cousin, Christian, and I head to Starbucks, Emerald Ave. for our once-in-a-while-morning-cofee-conversations.

I usually stay away from Starbucks when I'm on a diet. I can't resist their White Chocolate Mocca (no whipped cream, non-fat milk) and Honey Glazed Donut (my favoritest donut in the whole world). For today, I ordered coffee of the day, House Blend, determined to stick to my diet. Christian, on the other hand, ordered milk and the tempting Honey Glazed Donut. All the while he was eating his donut, he was teasing me to take a bite. Gawd, don't you just hate it when you say "no" to something you desperately like?

I ended up lighting a cig instead.

Normally, when Christian and I are at Starbucks, we end up talking about our families and relationships (ours and in general). For this morning, the first question raised is "how will you know if you're ready for marriage?"

You see, Christian is getting married in December, to his longtime girlfriend, Helen. I won't call what he's experiencing cold feet really, but maybe it is. It was more of a need to reassure his self that he's doing the right thing at the right time. Of course, the word "right" here is as subjective as it can go.

I mulled over his question and came up with this: There's no such thing as a person ever going to be completely ready for marriage. It's the same as no person ever being really ready for death. The uncertainty of where you're headed still lingers, no matter how much you want to be with your significant other. It just takes a leap of faith, courage, and confidence that you'll be able to face the life ahead of you together, holding each other's hand in the process. In effect, you are as ready as you can ever be when you decide you want to embark on this new chapter in your lives.

I looked at Christian and he somberly said, "I'm ready." I couldn't hide the admiration in my eyes when I heard him say that.

We went on discussing the ones who got away in our lives, what if s/he's the one, and about closing chapters on our "could-have-beens".

This is more on my side than his. After all, among my cousins, I have the record of keeping the shortest relationships, as well as the most at 3 ex-boyfriends. I told him I had the habit of closing chapters on ex-boyfriends. When that's done, I never wouldn't want to re-open it.

Of course, he raised the question of the last ex-boyfriend, who I pinned away for the last eleven years of my life, the first crush and puppy love of my life. They happened to be classmates in high school and it was Christian who introduced us.

I told him I recently closed that chapter of my life already. I knew in my heart that there's nothing to hope for, chalk it up to experience, and move on. But I wouldn't trust myself to see him, I said. I wouldn't want to ride that roller coaster of emotions I used to feel.

Christian asked, "What if he wants you back?" This wasn't (and isn't) a likely scenario, but since the question was posted, I had to think of my answer. I honestly replied, "I don't know. I am certain, though, that unless he's changed (big time!) and proven himself worthy of another chance, it would be a 'No, not in this lifetime!' kind of answer. After all, I deserve better than him."

There are no "could-have-beens" in my life. No regrets whatsoever with all the failed relationships I had. Although my closed door chapter policy sounds a bit harsh, I know that I gave everything I had when I was in a relationship with them. I don't think there's anything I could have done to change the fate of what happened.

The last point in our coffee conversation was the need to be in a relationship. Christian said the longest he went without a girlfriend was six months. On my case, it was a year and a half.

I guess it's the need to know that you are loved by someone else, outside your family and friends, that drives us to be in a relationship with someone. Being with someone means that somebody else appreciates your existence in the world and gives a whole new meaning to your life.

Even though I'm not in a relationship, I'm happy for my family and friends who have received their affirmation through their respective relationships.

As for me, I can only smile. Because, in spite of everything, I know I am loved by someone else out there right now.

new look

When a girl is moving on with her life, she normally changes something about herself. Usually, it's the hair or major shopping. In my case, I need a makeover. Not on my physical self (or even my credit card), but something that is important to me and has been a vital extension of my being for the past couple of months.

My Blog.

I thought I'd go for a little change in my blog presentation. I was thinking along the lines of enhancing it a bit. It ended up to be an overhaul.

One minute I was searching in google, the next I was swimming in a sea of blogskins. It was there that I stumbled upon blogplates and love productions.

After checking out one skin after another, I was getting frustrated because the ones I like had to be bought. I was about to lose hope. Good thing I didn't cause a little while later, I found this template. When I saw this blog skin, I knew I wanted it to replace my existing template. Thank God for Love Productions!

I like it for its simplicity. Plus the fact that it looks so white and so clean. Hmmmm... White is so appealing to me lately, especially guys in white tops.

I spent a couple of hours trying to figure out how to put the codes in the appropriate places. I think I viewed my own site more than 71 times just to see if it's coming out right. Which reminds me, I apologize to the people who were checking my blog at that time. I knew it looked really screwed up and the texts were not coming out right. But check it now, and you'll see it's soooo much better [assuming of course that you come back to my site.]

I'm actually not sure if the tweaking I did is allowed or not. I didn't change any of the graphics whatsoever, but I did some customizations on my own. Gawd, I hope I won't get sued or anything.

That's it for today. The html thingies were really tiring to do.

curled up with a good book

If I were to choose between a night out on a gimik or a good book, I'd choose a good book anytime. Of course, you could argue that it's a pretty easy choice considering there's no boyfriend in question. Assuming there is, I'd rather spend the night reading with his head on my lap or tummy, while he reads or watches television.

In less than one week, I spent more than a couple of thousand pesos on books. I took advantage that most of the titles were on a 20% discount salet at Powerbooks. All in all, I was able to buy 10 books, all of which were contemporary fiction. Books by Jane Green, Liz Young, Jennifer Weiner, and Megan McCafferty are filling my bedroom floor and my office space.

Most of the titles I bought dealt with thirty-something women looking for love. I'm a romantic, you see, a sucker for happy endings. At the back of my mind I know that even if I don't get a happy ending in my future, I can at least read about it. It gives me some hope that one day I, too, will experience a happy ending.

Sorta like opium for the hopeless romantics.

One day, I would like to write my own book so that I would have my own opium. It's been years since I have written a decent short story, much more a novel. I forgot to list this in my things I want to do before I die. I suppose it will be one of the top five... I'll go to said countries on a book tour! :)

Maybe I could write about what could have been my happy ending. Maybe write about my friends' happy endings [could be happy endings]. One thing is for sure, I want to write something that someone could not easily put down, who would laugh or cry with the characters, and who would feel content that they curled up with a good book.

contentment

One of the emotional states hardest to achieve, I believe, is contentment.

Being content, for me, means being happy and satisfied. To put it in a mathematical equation, Contentment equals I could not ask for more.

Rare do I find instances when I do not wish for more of this and less of that. That I did not long for what I could not have. When I do feel contentment in my heart, I am in awe with it. Aware that human beings are never content, I cherish the times when I feel I am.

Last weekend, for whatever reason, I was content. My Family. My Friends. My Life. Me without a Boyfriend. Me being Fat.

I lost a total of 4lbs over the 5days I was on a diet. I felt more active and lighter after going to the gym four times last, despite the fact that some of my muscles were aching bad.

I did my laundry, ironing, and made up my bed. I realized that it's been weeks since I did my chores. My parents were shouting "Halleluia!", of course.

I went out with Geo, caught a movie, had ice cream, popcorn, coffee and chips. Then we ended up drinking at home with younger brother. I was glad to see how my friends make themselves at ease with my brother.

I met most of my cousins that weekend on separate occasions.

I had dinner out with my family Sunday night. We had a great time talking over dinner and stuffing ourselves full. I didn't care if I was to gain back what I lost. I knew I was going to burn them again next week.

I spent the weekend reading two contemporary fiction I bought from Powerbooks on sale. I curled up under my sheets, loving the coldness of the rain pouring outside, with a book on one hand and a tissue paper on the other. My parents couldn't drag me away from the scenes playing on my imagination.

My nights were filled with texts from friends who warmed the cold weather even more.

I did not want for anything else. I don't know what this week holds nor the next month, nor next year and the year after that.

All I know is that I'm happy.

Satisfied.

3m adhesive

Note: Title courtesy of Geo.

3M, or Married-Men-Magnet, is something I can consider myself. I have a tendency to attract the not-so-single, not-so-available kind of men since I turned biologically 21. This translate to being emotionally 30. Now that I'm 25 (almost 26), I think I've matured to being emotionally 40, thus I am able to understand the mind of the married kind (not that I watch the show in HBO).

In my years of experience of dealing with the married kind, I found out:

1. It is the idea of having an occassional break from the usual meal and routine that triggers men to look for variety. They will pursue girls with much more effort, in the hopes of having a second (third or fourth) viand in the menu.
2. Married men get the girls (whether or not they tell them they're married) because they know girls' tickle spots, what makes girls fall, and the kind of affection girls need. After all, they've been there are at least once before. In other words, they court better than single men.
3. They are more romantic with their girlfriends than they are with their wives. Partly because I think they live with the wives day in and day out. The anticipation of meeting their girlfriends in secret is more exciting and appealing because they don't know when the next time will be. Thus, making each and every date a special one.
4. They can be more honest and oppen with the girlfriends rather than the wives, especially if it's the wives that's causing some trouble. They feel that the girlfriends are more interested in what they're saying than their wives will ever be. After all, they won't hear about endless house and kids problems that they get to experience themselves.
5. They are more generous and patient with girlfriends, more forgiving even, out of guilt. They are guilty of not giving the girlfriends what they really need -- them as their husbands.

What makes me a likely candidate, or other girls out there, are:

1. Ability to have fun and make the most out of it;
2. Flexible, especially in terms of schedule;
3. Intellectually stimulating, someone they can have a decent conversation with;
4. Never assumes or expects anything in return (i.e. marriage);
5. Honest and straightforward; and
6. Unattached, strong, independent and does not have excess baggage (emotional or otherwise);

When I was younger, I thought that men who go out on dates with single women are single also. It was then that I learned never to assume. Twice of my involvement with the married kind, I didn't know that they were in fact married. After learning from my first experience, I asked the second what his status. It wasn't my fault he lied. When I found out (in both cases), I stopped the relationship or dating and shifted to becoming just friends with them. Of course being just friends with them rarely stops the attraction they may feel for me, but on my part, it's dead.

D. E. A. D.

Everytime it happens, it feels like I'm doused with cold water in the middle of deep slumber and I can't go back to they way it was before.

They try to revive what once was. Being a Catholic and with much respect to marriage and family, I say no but not directly. God knows I've had my share of feeding egos after "accidentally" stepping on them. I know I don't want to be someone's second choice, or a mistress. So instead of pronouncing, "NO", I stipulate some things prerequisite to that kind of setup.

After my stipulation of my own condo in my name and the brand new Volkswagen New Beetle (also in my name), they run off to the other direction. I haven't even gotten to the point of monthly clothes and expense allowance. :)

This, of course, is a soft let down. It's like telling them, "You have a different set of priorities, and you can't give me what I need. We're better off being friends."

There is only one lesson that I learned by being a 3M. I realize that even though they claim to love their wives and their girlfriends, itis never the case. They only love themselves cause they can't make the necessary sacrifices for their marriages, nor could they do the right thing with their girlfriends.

vanity is my favorite sin

Yesterday, I went to my derma after not going there for a couple of months. And she punished me for it. I stopped using the pill three months back and pimples suddenly appeared everywhere though they're not clearly visible. I had facial, peeling, removal of them thingies, and injection afterwards.

More than an hour of treatment and what feels like a hundred injections or so, my face is as red as a ripe tomato. I have itsy-bitsy scars all over my face.

Vanity comes with a price... and pain.

* * *
I did what I wrote in this blog last night.

After feeling guilty of eating rice and not going to the gym cause I went to my derma instead, I put on DJ Paulo's CD and turned on the volume. I closed the lights and looked at my glow-in-the-dark stars and moon pasted in my wall. I used that as light to find the glow sticks in my cabinet. I cracked a couple and then there was light.

It's been such a long time since I last partied. Really partied with glow sticks and all. *sigh* I miss that.

I pushed the thought away and started dancing. Crazily. By myself.

With a cigarette in one hand and glow sticks on the other, I swayed my hips and moved my feet to the beat. In the privacy of my room, I danced like nobody's watching. Although I have to admit, I was scared to dance in front of the mirror with the lights out and just glow sticks. I'm not ready to die of fright yet.

It was then that I realized, more than anything else, I miss dancing with a guy. Especially, when I figured out when I last... well, you know. It was then that I stopped for a while and texted my friends what I was doing.

Geo said it was SWS, Sidebar Withdrawal Syndrome. Considering today is Friday and I'm not going to Sidebar, he maybe right.

I went back to dancing. But stopped shortly after. I missed my Sidebar dancing friends and every single person I've ever danced with. It dawned to me, no matter how good the music is, when there's no one to dance with, it just isn't the same. I felt good for a time, then I realize something's missing, and then it's not as fun as it was.

In the darkness of my room, I realized that life is not as wonderful if there's no one to dance with.

still the three year old

Anecdote: Worried About Parents

A little boy was telling his friend this, "My dad slaves away at work to provide for everything I want. My mom slaves away at home to cook for me, prepare my meals and clothes, and clean the house. I'm getting worried."

His friend asks, "Why?"

To which he answers, "I'm worried that they might run away."

* * *
When I read this one, I laughed. I could sympathize with the little guy. After all, it's pretty much the same in my case except it's my mom who works, and my dad, the househusband.

At the age of 25, I still live with my folks and pretty much still a kid in their eyes. I'm very much comfortable with it and I don't want to move out unless I really have to (i.e. when I get married). I like the idea of free food, free place to stay in, free rides, with parents caring for me in every way possible.

It's only them who can actually get away with emotional (and financial) blackmail. Last night alone, I was home early and they were about to have dinner. My dad called on me, and I started to whine about not wanting to eat cause of my diet. In the end, I was forced to sit at the dinner table and my mom placed some rice on the plate, telling me that one meal won't hurt my diet. After four days of not eating rice and a decent meal, I ate my first with heavy guilt.

Only my parents can do that to me.

They have been there for me when I went through my first, second, and third breakups, falling out with my bestfriend of 13years, and bad academic years in school. Love me despite my inability to cook and keep my room straight, strongheadedness and independent thinking. Stood by me with the choices I made with school, work and life.

Only my parents can do that for me.

One time they picked me up from the gym, my mom asked me how old a particular relative was when she got married. To which I answered, "Around 28."

She laughed and told me I am turning 26 and I'm still the three year old kid in the red shirt my parents fondly remember me with. They will always see me as the kid who smiles and laughs a lot and when she does her eyes disappear. (I attached the picture so that you guys would have a graphic idea of how I looked back then.)


I know parents will always be parents. They will forever think of their kids as kids and treat them as such. But I love my parents for that. Maybe not always. But I like the idea that I get to be cuddled like a child at the end of a rough adult day.

sex and the city and me

Last night I got the chance to watch the Sex and the City season five marathon on HBO -- all eight episodes in one sitting.

Throughout the four hours of watching, I can't help but see myself in these women considering the fact that we are of different cultures. It was then that I was inspired to make my blog something to that effect -- a blog on sex, relationship and life. Or atleast write a post on the topics.

My college friends know how much I love the sitcom. (Guys, even though you didn't get to give me the complete season vcds on my last birthday, I appreciate the thought.) Wes, on his testimonial on my friendster, defines me as a schizophrenic Sex and the City leads. As much as I am the sex advisor of most of my friends, I don't think I can openly write about it here in my blog, for fear that my parents and family members will find out about this site. But that doesn't mean I cannot raise questions or points to ponder on.

As I watched episode after episode, some of the things they said/discussed stuck to me like bubble gum on a shoe. I guess, in a way, these are the things that I would ask after much much internalization. I am glad that these episodes pre-processed it for me.

1. When someone asks you when was the last time you had sex and you have to think of the answer, it mean it's been THAT long. When Anthony said this to Charlotte, I found it funny... that is, until I forced myself to answer the question


2. How many great loves do a person have in a lifetime? One IF s/he's lucky. Carrie asked this question to the sailor, to which the sailor answered such. It made me sad and scared cause I had one great love -- I'm too young not to have another. I do realize that some people were not as lucky as me to have found one, but they're lucky that they didn't lose one.


3. I love you... but I love myself more. Samantha said this when she suspected her cheating boyfriend was cheating on her again. Truth be told, I always loved without limit or boundaries. In all the relationship I had, I had left little for myself. This is the lesson that I know I have to learn -- assuming I haven't in the last relationship. This adage should be my motto mantra or something.


4. Plus one is the loneliest number. This is the title of episode71. There are times when I have to go to affairs that require a date and I don't have one. Sometimes, I wish I could just wish for a guy to appear for the night and be with me, so I don't have to feel so alone in a party full of people.


5. We can't have it all. This was when Carrie sparked with someone who had a girlfriend, thus making Jack Burger not an option. It seems that life wouldn't be life if we had everything we wanted, like there is some sort of rule that if we have A, we can't have B. This then poses the question, "What would you rather have? A very good career or a very good love life?" This, I believe, is not just a matter of choice, but that of chance and circumstance. I still don't have an answer on what I would want more.


6. We are our worst critic. Carrie released her book and was awaiting her review from the New York Times, but she got reviewed for her relationships instead by someone who dated Aidan. Somehow, we always believe the worst in ourselves, especially coming from someone who we feel judges us. In the end, the value we put on others opinion is nothing compared to the value we have on ourselves.


7. Women also feel the need to get laid. Carrie went to San Francisco on a book tour and decided to meet Big so that she can get laid. Women are more picky than men as to who they want to have sex with. Women tend to go for someone they know, instead of some nameless, faceless stranger from a bar. I think it has something to do with respecting ourselves after the fact. Society has dictated on what is appropriate and what is not, what is slut and what is not, what is the norm and what is not. I guess, women fear to be ostracized and lose the respect others have for them for one night of hot, passionate sex with a total stranger.


8. Settling to get settled or not at all. The last episode was the wedding of two unlikely couples in the movie, a supposedly gay and a society lady. They claim love but others think otherwise. Is it companionship or the zsa zsa zsu (a.k.a butterflies in the stomach) that people get married? I know I won't get married unless I have the zsa zsa zsu, but would I risk the one time I'm going to get married knowing that the zsa zsa zsu is bound to fade? Worse, if the marriage ends.

I know I don't have the answers to most of these, nor have I closed most of the issues for myself. Up until now, it's food for thought. These thoughts may change over time, considering that change is the only constant thing in the world, and we have the capability to adapt to change.

Bottomline is, no matter how bad things are or how much things hurt, it's the hope in us that makes us search for the one, build friendships and relationships, take risks, and live life to the fullest. May we never lose it.

music heaven

I am officially in music heaven -- house music heaven to be exact.

Last night, Paulo gave me the cd I've been wanting for the last two weeks. It basically contains Happy (Square Head), Sunrise (Simply Red), Dove (Moony), Just The Way You Are (Milky), Satisfaction (Benny Benassi), Love On The Run (Chicane), and Make Luv (Room5 - from the AXE Commercial). If you have the appropriate plug-in, you'll be hearing Dove in the background.

In two words, Sidebar music. 10pm daily. DJ Mike plays these from 10 to midnight together with some trance tracks. In the nights that I spend at Sidebar, whenever these are playing I dance. Now that I have the cd, I won't feel too bad on not going to Sidebar. I just need the cd, surround speakers in my room, dim or no lights, maybe cracked glow sticks, and a bottle of wine (beer is a no-no while I'm dieting).

With that, I can dance as uninhibitedly freely as I want to.

* * *
Many thanks to DJ Paulo for compiling these songs for me. I owe you one.

to do list before i die

I was inspired by Karen when I dropped in her blog this morning. She posted a to-do list that made me think about what I want to do before I die.

Here's what I came up with:

1. Go to Prague. My friend, Cookie, visited Prague a couple of years back and since then I've been intrigued by the place.


2. Go to Venice, Italy for my honeymoon. (Assuming I get married!)


3. Go to Florida, USA on a spring break. It seems like it's loads of fun.


4. Go to Brazil to visit my brother, my Brazilian sister-in-law, and my two handsome nephews. Aside from that, I heard their MardiGras celebration is worth seeing.


5. Go back-packing, preferrably in Europe with a special someone (friend or otherwise).


6. Have a child by the age of 30. If I'm not married by then, I would want to have one with someone I'm genetically compatible with.


7. Get my doctorate.


8. Own a Volkswagen New Beetle and drive it.


9. Own a craftshop or open my own pre-school.


10. Teach.

It's pretty obvious that I love to travel. I'm not given much opportunity to do that as of the present, so it's pretty much up there in the clouds. But I plan to visit my brothers in Brazil and USA soon so that would be done in the next two years. I just hope I get to go there at the time of the MardiGras and Spring Break.

The rest, I'd say, I'm just waiting for the right time (and enough money!).

extrenous physical activities

I was at the gym last night -- really determined to shed off the pounds I gained over the past two months I stopped going there. From 8pm to 9pm, you would see me perspiring my way in treadmill#18. I decided to do a lot of cardio work before hitting the weights that way I burn off unnecessary fats prior to building muscles.

For last night, I have an achievement! I just want to announce that...

I finally conquered the StairMaster.

The said equipment had always been a challenge for me. Somehow, I couldn't stay on that thing longer than 9mins or without getting dizzy (the fainting kind of dizzy). But last night, after spending an hour and three minutes in the treadmill, I stood infront of the StairMaster and gathered enough courage to make the first step.

Twenty minutes later and burning a hundred twenty or so calories, I achieved my goal. It's a small goal but a goal nevertheless.

Contrary to popular belief that Mondays have the most number of people going to the gym, it wasn't as packed as usual. However, I was able to see G1 and G3 from my previous post, Three Men in the Gym. Owen, G1, is still cute and buffed. G3 (who for the love of God I still can't remember his name), on the other hand, was unsure of me as I was of him. We didn't get around to talk but I think we were trying to catch each other's eye as to who would say "hi" first.

Being that suplada (snob) that I am on the gym, you won't see me making the first move. I suppose he has the next few weeks to come up and hit on talk to me again. Maybe tonight. :)

* * *

As I am in the mood to do a lot of physical activities, I decided to join my officemates to their early morning badminton games. Also, unlike the gym, this is a social sport. I get to bond and hangout with people, teammates and opponents alike, who I have to work with in the office.

I am a person who's never excelled in a particular sport but can play most of them. I remember there was a time I played tennis, basketball, volleyball, table tennis, among others. The only sport I really was interested in were billiards and badminton -- to the point that I bought my own fiber glass cue stick and an expensive Carlton badminton racket.

I'm still not good at playing these games but I believe practice is the best way to improve.

* * *

These two activities, fat burning they may be, is hardly a piece of cake. Late nights at the gym, badminton in the early mornings...

No wonder I don't have anything interesting to talk about in this post.

turning a new leaf

As mentioned in my previous post, there will be no more Sidebar for me. Unless I want to sleep on the road, my parents are now pretty adamant that I stick with the rules, after all each one of us will make certain adjustments. After much discussion with my folks regarding the sacrifices each one of us will make, it suddenly became new year in the middle of the year.

Just so that I have something to refer to, and see where I will fail, I decided to write down here my mid-year's resolutions:

1. No more Sidebars for me. Atleast, not for the next 30days. I'm not sure if my mom could stay out of the casino for that long but that's what I'm aiming for -- for now.


2. Lose some pounds. I'm on a new diet starting today -- simply put, it's a starvation diet kind. No rice or carbs. Gawd, how I love rice and pasta. I'm not happy with the pictures being taken of me lately. I look sooo fat. I feel sooo fat. Oh gawd, I AM FAT.


3. Go back to the gym. I started going back to the gym last week and was present there for two days out seven. I aim to go back five days a week the way I used to. I aim to firm the fats that I would lose from my diet.


4. Revise my thesis. It's been a year since I graduated (and a year since I had been really thin). I think it's time to see my diploma and feel that I deserved the gold medal I received then.



This is my grad pic. Told you I was thin then.

5. Hibernate. I think I've been going out on too many gimicks lately. I think it's time to retreat for a while. Gawd, what the hell am I going to write about my blog then???

I can imagine that these resolutions would require major changes and would have major effects. I'm not counting that they will all be good, but I'm hoping.

Who knows, with these sacrifices, I know I'm getting something out of it. Like knowing I that I see to the end of my goals? My diploma and transcript? Or losing 20lbs? Or getting myself a boyfriend in the process, perhaps? ;)

last hoorah

Like all other Fridays before last, I was at Sidebar, Ortigas with the same group, seeing the same bunch of people hanging out there every Friday night. There are a couple of exceptions that made the 6August2004 Friday different than the rest.

I bought my digital camera with me. My intention was to get some pictures I could post here in my blog so that my readers can imagine all the things I have been blabbing about. Little did I know, it would be the last Sidebar I'd be experiencing in a while.

You see my mom had the habit of going to the casino twice a week, which my brother and I hated very much. As it turns out she's turning a new leaf and thus mandating everybody else in the house to give up something the others found irritating. For my dad, it was smoking. My brother, his impatience. And me, my late night outs which they equate to Sidebar.

Also, I never thought I'd get chinky-eyed more than I already am. Apparently, my eyes get really small when I'm drunk. This was proven by the (few) pictures I have from Sidebar.

One more thing different is the fact that I ordered 8 bottles of beer, which was something new. As the night progressed and I got deeper in my drunken stupor, my beer glass had the habit of disappearing. I'd ended up ordering more and more until I wasn't able to count how many I had actually drank. I think I went over six bottles because I ended puking before I reached the bathroom at home.

With much further ado, here is what happened last Friday in the best way it could be told -- through pictures.

100th post

This is my 100th post.

Today is my 3rd month in blogging.

I can't be anymore happier.

Happy happy. Joy joy.

Thank you to all my friends, those who became my friends through this, those who dropped by, and those who stumbled upon my blog.

Btw, I have a new toy. It's not a boy toy.

I have my first digicam.

This is me in my first attempts to take my own pics.

small notes

On Texting While Drinking

Yesterday, I had a bad hangover. After spending Tuesday night meeting up with my Ateneo masteral friends, Geo, Lyra, and Eyron, I woke up with a very bad headache. Apparently, drinking less than 4 bottles now causes me to loose sleep, rather than sending me to la-la-la-land. What's worse is that I took a glimpse of the sent items in phone -- I just cringed.

I wish there are celfone repositories on bars where you can leave your phones, rest assured that they wouldn’t get stolen, to prevent things like those that happened to me.

I think the one thing that I don't like about my phone is that it reminds me of what I did the night before. In my Nokia8310, I can feign amnesia the morning after. Now, I can't. I have texts like "Baby, where are you na? Please come to Sidebar. Pretty pretty please. Goodness, I would have died in shame had I texted pretty pretty please with me on top rather than cherry.

The greatest regret about nights like those is that some people misinterpret the messages. Even if it doesn't mean something to me (aside from the fact it's harmless flirting on my part), the recipient mistakes it as ardent love or stalking moves. It's not like I can take it back -- best I can do is apologize and hope they read this post so that they will be enlightened.

It's the beer talking.

* * * * *
Life is Simple not Complicated

Life is really simple and not complicated. We end up complicating things when it shouldn't be anyway. Why do I say this? It seems like we have these sets of rules in going about life that end up causing difficulties, rather than living naturally. People also have a tendency to give color or meaning into things, thus becoming exceptionally sensitive.

I'm guilty of this.

As an example, I have this thing about not getting involved with younger guys. I have preconceived notions about the whole May-December affair. I feel that it's a bad thing to be called a cradle-snatcher or to hang out with someone less mature than I am. Lately, I have been bombarded blessed with a bunch of younger guys 3 to 4 years my junior to hang out with. They're not a bad crowd really -- just makes me feel terribly old, especially when we're talking about music generation and stuff. Truth be told, they're not as immature as I would think. In fact, they're even more sound and make decent conversation than guys my age or older. I think the new generation is more grounded than I initially thought.

Another instance is when a girlfriend of mine decided to go out with someone I was into, who happened to be into her, last weekend. I felt bad for some time because I believe that girlfriends shouldn't do that to each other. After awhile, I thought screw the thought and let her have her fun. I mean, if I can't have him, it doesn't mean he can't "be have" by someone else. If they end up together and happy, I'll be the first person to cheer for them. Good thing was, it ended up to be a disastrous date. Hehehe :) Evil, I know. I'm sorry! But I would have been happy had they ended up having a great time.

There is this consideration for timing and being considerate about other people's feelings. A friend of mine once said she wouldn't go out with a guy cause of complications in their life. It seems that, for them, getting together is a bad idea because of the circles they were running in or that it was too soon. Or maybe a case of what should or should not be done. In all honesty, who defined the "shoulds" and "should nots" of this world? The people who aren't getting any breaks, I suppose. In reality, for as long as you know that you are not doing anything immoral and you have the same understanding, why don't you just do it? Others affected maybe sensitive about it for a while, but would you sacrifice your own happiness just cause your friend doesn't feel like it (i.e. see the case above)? If they are you're real friends, then they should understand that happiness doesn't come to often to everyone. When it happens, you just have to let it consume you.

Life is simple, not complicated. If things work out, they do. If not, they don't. In the end, what comes around goes around, but don't expect to win the lotto when you're not betting.

* * * * *
Thoughts on Regrets

I have tried to live my life without regrets. I'm not talking about regrets as such in the case of texts, or saying (and writing) things I shouldn't have. It's more what ifs, not doing the things I did, and not recovering from the past mistakes. Such in the case of being raped, getting involved with a married man (didn't know it at that time), or reuined friendships. Things like I should have studied more, partied less, and restrained myself more.

I once said, the first is always the hardest. I forgot to add, it gets easier the next time around. I know that if I regret one instance in my life, I would end up regretting a lot more things because it paves the way for flooded questions as to where I went wrong and what if this and that -- an endless loop of if-then-else.

It then becomes imperative to accept the situation as it is... without regrets. Adjust, adapt, and be flexible enough to make the most out of it. I don't want to realize later on that I spent most of my time dwelling on the what could have been rather than living my life to the fullest. I want to say at the end of my days that I lived my life the way I did and if I were to do it all over again, I would still do the same thing.

Life is a learning experience -- thus, mistakes are part of the lesson. These mistakes should not be regretted because you become a better person in the end. However, if you keep on repeating the mistake, you end up not learning at all. It's pretty much the same as the saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

the biggest lie

A year ago, I made the biggest lie of my life and actually got away with it. Around 4pm in the afternoon of August 3, 2003, I boarded a plane on its way to Newcastle, United Kingdom. I told my folks my company was sending me there for training. What they didn't know was that it was an all-expense-paid pleasure trip.

Although I have to admit the whole trip turned out to be a disaster, the purpose of this post is to share with you the things I loved and enjoyed about the trip.

1. Sovereign Court, Newcastle, England: The Apartment. If I were to have a place of my own, it would be something like that. The place was great and had a lot of funny memories. It was the first place I cooked at (lacking in seasoning), shrinked a shirt in the laundry, and short-circuited the electronic fire place. There was no place I could hang the clothes in to dry, so I made do with fire place. I ended up heating up the whole house and perspiring since it was without electric fan. Only to wakeup in the morning, shivering in the cold cause the window was left open! I was lucky I didn't get sick at all! Btw, the place came in with a cool Ferrari -- not that I drove it. I don't think I even touched it even though it was just parked on the streets.


2. Edinburgh, Scotland: Fringe Festival, The Castle, and Calton Hill. The time we went to Edinburgh it was the Fringe Festival. Events were happening all over the streets, from chorus singing, mimes performing, Scotsmen in their kilts playing their bagpipes, and people in costumes inviting us to watch their own shows. It was my first visit to a castle and I ended up taking loads of pictures. Then we watched Slaves of Starbucks at Hill St. Quite frankly, I don't remember anything about the play anymore. At that time, it sounded funny. Afterwhich, we got lost in going to the inn we're supposed to stay at. It was a scary ride, too (by scary I mean mumu or ghosts). I was with three guys who couldn't read maps and a driver who was irritable as hell. Luckily, we made a U-turn after a very long (but cool, according to Alvin) bridge. Had we continued on that road, God knows where we could have ended up in. Glasgow, perhaps. Hehehe :)




3. Harry Potter's Alnwick Castle, Northumbria, England. Believe you me, I was so excited to go there even if we just stayed at the castle grounds. After all, it was in those grounds that they filmed the first Harry Potter movie. I was with three of the kulitest coolest guys a girl could ever ask for. My greatest thanks to Alvin, Jeff, and Mark for being with me at that visit and sending me the pictures afterwards.






4. VFestival in Weston Park, Staffordshire, England. I mentioned this several times in my post, so I don't have to keep on harping about Red Hot Chili Peppers, Coldplay, Foo Fighters, et al. The best memory I have of this one is buying a pack of Marlboro Menthols for five pounds (GBP5) which translates to P500! Shoots, I could buy myself 20packs of the that cig for the same price! Oh yeah, that, the public urinals, and stories of couples doing the deed in unexpected places.



5. Shopping in Newcastle. True, shopping is costly in the United Kingdowm. Fortunately for me, I love walking and going around places to find myself the best bargain in town. I remember walking from Newcastle to Gateshead crossing a very big bridge and not knowing where to properly cross the road. Top three things I bought: Marks and Spencer knickers, contemporary novels (books), and my Starbucks United Kingdom mug. It was cheaper than a Starbucks Manila Mug.

6. Tynemouth, Newcastle. I sent the picture to a friend of mine here in the Philippines and this is what he wrote back: "Cecil, you've been duped. That's not Newcastle! It looks like an old castle!" Harharhar. :) There was also this lighthouse that you could actually cross when it's low tide. Unlucky me, the tide was a bit so I didn't get to cross. On my last night there, I got the chance to go to the seashore and feel the freezing water. It was around 8:30pm already and the sun was just about to set. I took the best sunset pictures I have taken in my entire life that night.




7. Durham, England: The Cathedral, the Castle, and the Cobblestones. There was nothing extraordinary about the place, except maybe the company at that time, but it was the time that I mistook a sign for a comfort room. The sign said "To Let" which roughly means "for rent". At first glance, I thought it was a toilet on the street. Oh yeah, I love the cobblestones on the streets -- It made me feel like I was in the medieval ages.



Sometimes I wonder if it really happend to me. It feels like a dream that I was once in a faraway land and I got the chance to experience a whole new world. Whenever I look at the pictures, I feel they are someone else's postcard or a cover for some cd, but then I see myself in some of them and I remember...

That thanks to one person, I was once there.